The art I carry inside: Life is a WIP (Work in progress)

Some time ago I wanted to learn to draw. In the process I noticed several things. Among them, that I am more blind than I thought, and I am not able to see reality at its 100 %; that drawing is not my thing; that I have more patience than I thought, but not enough; I can do what I want if I have a the purpose, but having a true purpose it's difficult; and that I am extremely hard on myself.

From time to time I remember this specific drawing, and it makes me learn new things every time. I could never finish it, because it got lost. I looked for it throughout the entire house and I could never find it. I had invested so much time in it, that I did not even think about starting again from scratch. Just thinking about it makes me feel lazy. I spent about 6 hours drawing just the lips, probably because it was so hard to SEE. New shadows and textures always appeared, it was magic.

I used to put so much methodism, time and effort into my drawings that I clung to them and it hurt to give them away. I only draw for people who are extremely special to me, and I can count them with one hand. It is a way of expressing something I don't have words for.

I don't even try to make this kind of drawings anymore. When I do draw, it's usually emotional, disastrous, specific, maybe sad, maybe aggressive, probably both. There are no methods, just discharge. It's no longer about learning, it is about expressing myself when words don't get anywhere, and when there are no effective ways to say what I really feel. I prefer this kind of art much more for myself.

Lindsay, the drawing, stayed like a work in progress forever, wherever it is. If I ever find it, I'll finish it. The thing is that at least my life is always like this: a work in progress, in constant construction. Sometimes I feel lazy, I go into hiatus for a long time, I don't go forward at all. Sometimes I get lost and I can't find myself in ages. Sometimes I leave things in half. Sometimes the thought of starting over gets me existentially lazy. I know what I can do if I want to, but most of the time I just don't want to.

Ah but how awesome I am when I do want to. Suddenly I have super powers when I give my 100%. Sometimes I manage to channel that person I know I am. But it's not easy.

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I tried the drawing thing for a whole year. I bought all the pencils, special erasers, everything. I thought I needed the right tools or I wasn't going to be able to make good drawings. It was obviously bullshit, those with art inside can create amazing stuff with little resources. Which led me to believe that this wasn't my thing. I could do it, sure. But it wasn't something I carried inside.

Some people carry art inside. Learning their kind of art is a process where they just learn how to channel whatever is already inside of them. This wasn't exactly it for me. It felt forced, mostly. At least these kind of drawings, because I reallly love realistic drawings. But then I discovered I also love messy drawings, and they seem more like me.

Something stayed with me: when I like someone, or if I see someone specially symetric, I get a huge urge to draw them. Doing so, I felt like I coul caress every inch of them so carefully. I can learn the shape of their lips and the way they mirror light. Art is not the thing I do, it's the thing they are.

Anyway, drawing is not for me. I'm too lazy. I only do it when I want to get dirty (lolol), or if I want to give someone special a special part of me, or if I want to touch someone and I can't hehe.

I think it's important to discover what we carry inside. What we carry will come out on its own. It will probably require some kind of effort, and maybe it will hurt. Only it won't feel forced but natural. Discovering your own way of art is a difficult thing. We want to immitate all the time. We even want to immitate reality, and what for? Who are you really? Express yourself.

Art serves no practical purpose, it is only fuel for the soul.

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_{All drawings are obviously my own.}